


The box in the attic

by moonstarshadow



Series: Stolen Letters [1]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, F/F, F/M, Hogwarts, Letters, Love Letters, M/M, Marauders, Mentioned James Potter, Mentioned Lily Evans Potter, Mentioned Peter Pettigrew, Multi, Original Character(s), Wizarding Culture (Harry Potter), Wizarding World (Harry Potter)
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-07-12
Updated: 2020-07-12
Packaged: 2021-03-05 00:54:41
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,862
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25225651
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/moonstarshadow/pseuds/moonstarshadow
Summary: Aerglo Turner, a young  Ravenclaw who soon has to go back to Hogwarts, finds in his attic a strange box with his grandfather initials engraved on it. What he did not expect was to find inside packages of letters from an unknown prisoner of Azkaban.
Relationships: Sirius Black/Remus Lupin
Series: Stolen Letters [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1827556
Kudos: 12





	The box in the attic

Summer was about to end and the soft September breeze had already begun to ruffle the kids’ hair as they played in the park. Aerglo was sitting in the grass, enjoying the last vacation days relaxing in the sun. His black hair was pulled back in a bun as his glaze followed the small figure of his little sister running around, playing catch with the neighbours’ children. His green eyes were glimmering as the sunshine passed through the thick foliage of the trees, forcing him to slightly close his eyelids, scrunching his nose. When the sun began to disappear behind the trees, Aerglo heard his mother’s voice calling them back in for dinner. “Come inside Phee!” he shouted to the little girl whose forehead was covered in sweat. A little frown appeared on her face before she waved at her friends and quickly ran to the backyard where her brother was standing, waiting for her. Her curly hair was a complete mess and the older brother laughed at her. “You should take a shower Phee, you’re all sweaty.” he said, an expression of fake disgust on his face. ”At least I don’t stink like you!” she answered, sticking her tongue out as Aerglo dramatically put a hand on his chest, faking a loud cry. The two got inside and Ophelia ran upstairs to take a shower, while Aerglo reached their mother in the kitchen. “Are you ready for school?” the woman said before the boy could even say a word. “Mum, I still have a week left.” he answered as the woman turned to face her son. “Yeah, that’s what you’ve been saying for the past four years, yet everytime we have to send an owl to Hogwarts since you always seem to be forgetting something. Do everyone a favour and start packing everything.” she said with a smirk on her face, but her voice was firm. The boy sighted and rolled his eyes, muttering an “alright mum” and slowly reaching the stairs. “Come back in twenty minutes!” she raised her voice so that Aerglo could hear, as he reached the second floor. He knocked on the restroom door and told his sister that dinner would be ready in a short time, then got into his bedroom.

The blinds were half closed, letting the last feeble sunshine play with the objects in the room, drawing light and shadows on them. The bed was roughly done and some clothes, probably half of his wardrobe, were laying on a bordeaux armchair in the corner of the room. A pair of old converse was laying on the floor next to a muggle magazine which had previously fallen from the bed. Aerglo untied his hair, letting them fall right above his shoulders, tickling his neck, and looked around himself. Merlin, he really needed to make some order in there, but he probably would have ignored the mess until a few days from the 1st September, usually because Amanda, his mother, would be threatening not to let him go to Hogwarts until the place was clean and tidy enough. He pulled his old beige suitcase from under the bed and opened it. Arclas, his black cat, immediately jumped on the mattress meowing at the familiar object, making the boy chuckle a little. “Are you excited to go back?” he asked the cat, softly stroking his head and scratching the spot behind his hear, smiling as the cat purred. “Sorry Arclas, can’t cuddle now.” he then added, reaching the bookshelf right next to the door. With the list on his right hand, Aerglo grabbed the school books he would’ve needed that year and placed them in the suitcase. He loured as he realized his transfiguration book was missing, panicking a little since he couldn’t seem to find it anywhere. After a few minutes of looking around the entire room, he finally remembered that the book was nowhere to be found because there simply wasn’t a book anymore. His mind clearly remembered the Ravenclaw common room when he accepted Victoria’s stupid bet, which ended up in his book transfigurated into an old, aggressive snapping tortoise and him not being able to transfigurate it back to a book. Everyone agreed it would’ve been better for him and the entire house not telling professor McGonagall, so with his friends’ help he managed to take the tortoise without getting bitten and freeing it in the forbidden forest. Therefore, his book was pretty far gone, and he had forgotten to tell his parents. He gulped as he slowly got down the stairs. “Hey mum.” he said, with a strangely soft tone. “Not now dear” Amanda said, and as soon Aerglo entered the kitchen he was overwhelmed by a disgusting smell. “I got a little distracted.” she continued. “I seriously have no idea how these muggles can keep up with this every day! Can you believe it, Glo? Every day!” Aerglo nodded as he closed his nose with his fingers, not quite sure what to say. “We’re ordering pizza tonight.” she added, as Aerglo watched her throw away the burnt food, not hiding the concern on his face. On another night he would’ve made fun of her, not understanding why she persistently kept trying to cook in the muggle way, but he was far too worried she would have gotten even angrier after talking about the book-tortoise. “Listen uh-“ he started, while his mum sadly looked at her ~~beautiful~~ burnt chicken in the trash can. “I-I can’t find my transfiguration book.” he continued, deciding to avoid the snapping tortoise detail. “What do you mean you can’t find it?” she asked looking at him for a moment and then back at the dinner. “I don’t know, maybe I, uh, lost it on my way home last June.” he answered, hoping she wouldn’t make any further questions. Against all his expectations, Amanda wasn’t angry at all, probably still too upset about her umpteenth culinary failure to think about anything else. ”Go in the attic” she said “I think Thomas left his old one there.” Aerglo smiled and quickly thanked his mother, then ran back upstairs, straight to the attic.

The room was dark and everything he could see was the dusty air enlightened by the moonlight and the silhouettes of furniture around him. The boy switched on a small light and proceeded to search for the book. After a good ten minutes of opening drawers and moving stuff around the room, Aerglo finally found what he was looking for. He blew away the dust from the hard red and golden cover and slowly opened the book. On the first page, the black inked ‘T.S. Turner’ pointed out its owner. Aerglo gently turned the first pages, his eyes wandering through the words he studied in the last years. He sat on the floor and from that perspective his gaze was suddenly captured by a shiny metal under a white blanket. The boy crossed his legs, placing the book on the floor right next to him and slowly got closer to the mysterious object. Almost scared, he pulled away the blanket, revealing an old wooden box a bit ruined on the top, with a silver reinforcement on the edges. Aerglo noticed a small incision in the right bottom corner and recognizing in it his grandfather’s initials he decided to try and open it. He surely did not expect it to be so easy, without any spell protecting it, but he was glad about it. Lifting the top and looking inside, Aerglo remembered his grandfather’s meticulousness since every object seemed to have its precise place, everything in perfect order. So the boy was now on his knees, slightly bent over the inside of the box, analysing every object. He recognized an Ollivander’s box, with the wand still inside, some notebooks, a ruined map, an old book, some jewellery, a photo book and a golden compass. As soon as he took the photo book out of the box, he realized it wasn’t as thick and heavy as he imagined it, and his attention was immediately caught by another, smaller box previously hidden by the book in his hands. Placing the object on the floor right next to him, Aerglo grabbed the box: it was as large as the photo book and quite deep; the wood was dark and ruined, especially on the edges, and it looked quite anonymous, since he couldn’t seem to find any incision or plate on it. So he sat down and crossed his legs, placing the mysterious object on them. Once he opened it, he saw an old, yellowed piece of paper right on top of a blue velvet cover.

_property of Castor O. Turner_

_letters from a prisoner of Azkaban_

_years 1981-1993_

After reading the note, Aerglo moved the velvet cover, revealing eleven little packages, groups of folded letters kept together by a twine. The boy took the first group, which seemed to be the smallest one, and carefully untied the bow. Like they were a deck of cards, he started to pass the letters from one hand to another, slowly, his fingers already pervaded by words of the past. The letters were yellowed and the ink smudged. Aerglo took what seemed to be the oldest one. The smell reminded him of the scent of those olden novels, ancient books found in those muggle thrift stores in London. The paper looked fragile, like the man behind them, as hinted by the trembling signature and the scattered ink stains. Aerglo opened the letter without reading, asking himself if it wouldn't have been better for him to stop there, if it really was a good idea to keep on reading. But then again, what serious harm could a few letters do? Breathing out, at that moment he decided that that prisoner's memories were worth reading, and that his story would become his.

Aerglo started reading. The blank space on the paper was definitely too much compared to the words written on it, and it looked more like a short message than a letter.

_20th December, 1981_

_Moony,_

_I'm sorry. Will you ever forgive me?_

_Sirius_

Aerglo didn't know why, but a sense of deep discomfort and melancholy made his chest hurt a little, as if the ink was staining his heart. He took another letter and this one dated back to the 8th January 1982. “Shouldn’t these be from 1981?” the boy thought out loud, looking at the note left by his grandfather. With a frown on his face, he quickly went through all the letters, but nothing seemed to have been written in 1981, except for that short note, which was tied together with letters from 1982. Was it possible his grandfather lost an entire package? Aerglo immediately rejected that option, considering how tidy and precise his grandfather was. Moreover, it seemed like each group of letters corresponded to a year. Then why were there only eleven packages, since the years were twelve? A loud voice dragged him back to reality. “I’m coming mum!” he shouted back, quickly puttin the box in the other and hiding it under the blanket, putting it back exactly where it was. He grabbed the book and roughly stuffed the smallest group of letters in his jeans, hiding it under the long black t-shirt. He ran downstairs and, after placing the book in his suitcase, he joined his family in the kitchen.

Four pizzas were on the table, where Aerglo found his mother, his sister and Darrel, his father, who had just come back from work. “Hey there!” he greeted him, his mouth stuffed with food, and Aerglo answered with a smile and a feeble ‘hey’. He sat in front of Ophelia and started eating his pizza, while Darrel started talking about what had happened that day at work. Then he started complaining about something about the Ministry, but Aerglo couldn’t quite tell, since he could only think about what he had just discovered, his mind wandering in the past, trying to understand something about the letters and the prisoner behind them. “Was grandad a guard when he was younger?” he asked out of nowhere, interrumpting his father and looking at him. Mr. Turner, as everyone at the table, was visibly confused by the sudden question, since the boy had been silent for at least twenty minutes. “Yes, in his 40s, if I remember correctly." he answered. "He quit after a while, though, when I was eleven or twelve. It was my first year at Hogwarts.” The man smiled as the memories of his youth played in front of his eyes, escaping his mind through the words of one of his funny stories about him and his brother getting in trouble at school. After they finished, Aerglo was left in the kitchen to clean the dishes, while everyone got ready for bed. The little Ophelia, already in her pyjama, singing a song as she washed her teeth, was waiting for her dad to tell her a goodnight story, and when Aerglo finally walked upstairs he could hear his father's voice telling the same old story of the three travelling mice. He laughed a little before wishing everyone a goodnight, then got inside his bedroom and closed the door behind him. As soon as he entered the room, he pulled the letters out of his jeans and put them on his desk as he changed his clothes. The muggle band t-shirt he was wearing immediately reached the rest of the wardrobe on the armchair as the pale skinned boy wandered around the room trying to tidy up the essential, so he wouldn't be sleeping in a complete mess. He put on his pyjamas and grabbed the letters, letting their smell pervade him as he closed his eyes. He didn't know what it was about them that intrigued him into reading more. He wanted to know why Sirius was sorry and why he had written so many letters, he wanted to know who he was and find out the identity behind Moony, what their story was about. He wanted that strange feeling to burst in his chest once again. This was what seemed to him the greatest, most adventurous novel of all times. So he laid on his bed, his back on the headboard, as he picked the second letter. He turned on a little lamp on his nightstand, where he placed the other letters, and he started reading.

_9th January, 1982_

_Moony,_

_today is the first full moon of the year, and I won't be there with you. None of us will, and it's all my fault. I'm sorry. I'm sorry for everything. I'm sorry for not trusting you. You’re the bravest, most loyal man I’ve ever met, yet I chose not to put my trust in you. I don't deserve you. I'm sorry for letting James and Lily die. I'm a fucking idiot. I deserve to be here, and I know you think the same. I know that, in any case, you wouldn’t want me to be near you. I deserve to rot in this cell. But tonight I wish I were there with you. I wish I could get out of this cell, only for this night, and then come back here, as I deserve. I wish I didn't have to leave you alone. I'm sorry. It's all my fault. Please, stay strong ~~my love. I love you.~~ _

_Sirius_

Aerglo rested his hand on his chest as his eyes started wandering around the room. It seemed to him that through the shadows and the dim light he could almost see the bars of a cell, and the broken man inside. He couldn't know, though, that that night, in the cell, Sirius was sobbing as the moon enlightened his surroundings. It seemed to him like a punishment, a reminder of what he had done. His chest was burning, but his heart was cold. Everything was cold. Yet, not even Death would welcome him. It would've been to him such a relief, to rejoin his lost friends. But then the moonlight reminded him of Remus, of his Remus. No, he wasn't his anymore. He didn't deserve to call him his, even if he was the only thing keeping him from going completely mad. Even if the thought of him, of them, simultaneously kept his heart together and tore it apart even more. As the guard brought him a parchment paper and a feather, Sirius started to write, each word stabbing him cruelly. He couldn't bear the thought of Remus alone during the full moon, again, especially not after all the nights spent together. Not after everything they had gone through. He wanted to tell him that he loved him, he wanted to call him love. He tried to remember how that word felt coming out of his lips, but his heart would only hurt more. No, Sirius didn't deserve any love. He didn't deserve the love of his friends, of the Potters, of Remus. So, as he crossed out the last words he had written, Sirius crawled to the bars, and there he left a letter, a feather and a heart.


End file.
